


demons? never heard of 'em!

by Maxeli7



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: The Try Guys
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, And there will be some for shyan dont worry, Demons, Ghosts, M/M, Mental Illness, More characters might be added, Murder, Supernatural Elements, There's smut!, and having to investigate murders, going into some random fuckin tiny town, like imagine this city slicker boy who has never done anything rural just like, oh boy shane is in over his head tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-01-19 08:19:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12406644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxeli7/pseuds/Maxeli7
Summary: Shane Madej-skeptic-private investigator-city boyRyan Bergara-believer-small town sheriff-in way over his headWhen a string of murders appears in the small town of Dusty Pines, private investigator, Shane Madej, is brought to aide Ryan Bergara, the sheriff, in searching for the killer and solving the case. But, what happens when you cross a skeptic with a case that is entirely supernatural in the worst way possible?





	1. into the woods we go

Bumpy roads didn’t make for a good car ride, Shane was realizing. Why wouldn’t you pave a road after it got like _this?_ All cracked and gross and stupid. He didn’t even like driving that much, and would easily have preferred his supervisor, Chief Habersberger, to drive his ass out here, instead. In reality, bumpy roads are very ominous when you’re going to investigate murders because some stupid, small town sheriff couldn’t do it himself. Shane could’ve been in bed, sleeping in late, having a nice time with Netflix; but instead he was on a one-way trip to Creepville. Who the _fuck_ puts a town in the middle of nowhere, too! That was another complaint Shane had: why would you make dead end roads in the middle of the creepy Chicago woods? It’s scary! 

This was scary. 

Shane did not like this. 

The thing was, it was scary in the sense that in the dark, we put our foot down for another step on the stairs and fall instead. It was scary in the sense that Shane Madej did not know what to expect. When he signed up for being a private investigator under the police system, he knew he’d have to do stuff like this. He’d signed up for the spooky murders and circumstances no one could explain. But, even with the training he’d received, he didn’t like the fog that laid in front of his window, or the way birds flew above his sunroof, as if they knew something was wrong with the way he was going. He wasn’t scared, per say, but the tone this place gave off had the hairs on his neck standing up and his eyes almost wanting to block out the bad omens these woods stored. 

To be fair, that’s kind of what you get when you investigate seven murders that have happened in the span of five days. You get a shaken up, unsettled feeling, and Shane had felt this feeling when he watched scary movies and he didn’t know how they’d end. He was on the edge of his seat, and he wasn’t even in the town, yet. _Apprehension,_ Shane realized, _I am apprehensive._ That was the thing about apprehension: you didn’t really realize it was there until you were in the fact of what you were freaking out about. 

Now Shane was seeing the sign for the town, a big ol’ friendly cartoon bear on a worn down wooden fixture, welcoming him to Dusty Pines; Shane could almost hear the old man saying, _“now y’all come back now, ya’hear!”_ It gave him a bad feeling, and he noted that this town had secrets, and that he’d have to ask the sheriff what was held in this town, and-- 

_“JESUS CHRIST--”_ Shane shouted loudly as he slammed on the brakes, the front bumper of his car stopping centimeters short of the man who stood in front of it. Really the only thing that had alerted Shane of the man was the girlish scream he’d let out, and now Shane was quickly unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car, eyes wide. 

“I didn’t mean to-- oh God, are you okay? Did I hit you? Well, no, I didn’t--” Shane started babbling, a quick impediment to his speech taking on the unfinished, frenzied sentences. 

“No, it’s okay!” the man interrupted, putting his hands up to surrender to Shane’s onslaught of panic, “I’m okay! The fog is super dense today, don’t worry about it!” 

Shane swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing, “Yeah-- yeah, it’s… rough. I… I’m kind of new to the whole… _fog thing?_ The city’s got smog, but not this misty-- misty--” 

“Bullshit?” the man offered, a large grin on his face. 

Shane gave a loud laugh, “Yeah-- yeah, bullshit. It’s bullshit, alright. How do you guys live like this?” 

“Well, I’m from California, actually? And the whole…” The man gave a wild gesture, his chuckle matching his erratic movement. “This stuff! It was really new to me, I had such a bad time driving up here? I was lost all the time, and I didn’t know what I was doing--” 

Shane laughed and shook his head, “I’m an experienced Chicago driver, I can drive in any weather, but this was a bit much.” 

They both chuckled a bit, and the man sighed, then snapped his head up from the gaze on the ground, and quickly shot out his arm, offering his hand for a shake.  


“Ryan Bergara,” Ryan spoke, “town sheriff. Pleased to meet you, _Mr. Hit And Run!”_

Shane paused, slowly taking the handshake and giving an awkward smile, “Shane Madej, the guy who’s helping you with your murder cases.”  


Ryan stopped the shake suddenly, and Shane was left there, standing with a sheriff, holding hands. It was a bit awkward, but apparently Ryan didn’t care for a good few seconds until he snapped out of his haze, yanking his arm back. Shane liked to think that maybe this sheriff was admiring his good looks, but he reasoned that the man was just shocked that his little “deputy” had almost hit him with a Camry. Reasonable, Shane warranted, as he cleared his throat to break the silence, and finally spoke in a comical tone. 

“Pleased to be workin’ with ya!” the investigator spoke with a grin, slowly, painfully inching back towards his car, “But I gotta-- gotta get to my motel room, unpack. I’ll meet you around town, okay?" 

Ryan nodded, his dumbstruck look turning into a smile, “Try not to hit any townspeople with your car.” 

“No promises,” Shane replied, getting into the vehicle and taking a breath, buckling up and gripping the steering wheel. This job couldn’t be so bad, not with a guy who looked like that. Seeing that face 24/7? Well, Shane could sleep easy. Maybe that’s why he forgot about his drive over to the motel and just worked on autopilot. It was so easy to just move along, forget, forget, forget. All that was on his mind was Ryan Bergara, seven murders, and how he was going to sleep in an old motel. The motel owner, Zach, didn’t seem to have many issues renting to him, and spent an awfully long time speaking highly of the mayor, Eugene Lee Yang. Overall, Shane was in a daze, and soon enough he was sitting on his motel room bed, staring at the peeling wallpaper. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” the man whispered to himself, before going to scrub at his face with the palm of his hand. That feeling of impending doom had lessened in seeing a hot guy, sure, but it had worsened in the sense that he knew he would fall for this hot guy while they were examining dead bodies. Definitely, at first, he’d felt pretty good about working with Ryan, but now it was a clusterfuck of emotions and he didn’t like how cold he felt. He wouldn’t chalk it off as ghosts or some bullshit, but this place gave off a bad vibe, and he didn’t want to end up in a _Children of the Corn_ scenario, where everyone died and no one had fun.  


This town? Something was wrong with it, and as Shane laid back on the creaky motel bed with his shoes still on; he closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, taking in the scent of fake pine, stale air, and a shadow that was looming over him. He wasn’t ready for this town, and the town wasn’t ready for him. But, he could think about that later, after a nap. 

So, Shane Madej slept as the town brewed and bubbled over, and as the murderer slept in his home where no one knew his true intentions or what he was.


	2. they were drained of most of their blood

Their bodies are drained of most of their blood. That’s what Shane took note of from the case report as he sat in the mayor’s office with Sheriff Bergara. 

So, admittedly, when he woke up from his nap and set out to search for the sheriff, he wasn’t really expecting to be greeted by an interesting cast of characters. The place almost felt like _Stranger Things,_ only less telekinetic girls, and more fog and smoke. Smoke is the thing that Shane picked up on, and he attributed it to the fact that many of the houses are old, probably have wood burning fireplaces and such, things like that. It’s cold out, and he’d want to burn some logs, too, in this weather. 

Even so, it’s still an assortment of fuckery. 

Shane had always been awkward meeting people. Sure, putting on a facade of happiness and excitement was great, but every three seconds he would space out and disassociate. In all honesty, he could only focus when he was interrogating someone with his charming smile and squinted eyes. Shane Madej was not made for the social world, and meeting the townspeople was something different altogether. It was almost like entering a new world when he met the first person in the town other than Ryan. Ned. Ned was a lot to handle. Shane really wasn’t sure what to say when he saw Zach and Ned arguing with each other in front of the school he passed by. He really had been far out of their way, but as soon as Ned saw him, he was a fucking homing missile, ready to explode. There had been a shout of, _“hey stranger!”_ and suddenly the man was beside him. Suddenly he was being talked to, and Shane couldn’t get a word in on how to explain that he had a meeting with the mayor. 

There were some key points about Ned. 

He was like that guy in highschool who won every sports award, and then gave you praise when you got a stupid, shitty participation award. Shane liked to think of it as the guy in the movie _Big Fish,_ Edward Bloom? He was Edward Bloom, the guy who was always lucky, had always been in a small town, was the champion. It wasn’t really annoying that he was successful, but having a guy who’s so… upbeat? When murders are going on? It’s a lot to handle. 

Shane found that Ned was a close friend of Zach and Mayor Eugene Lee Yang, and he had to question _how fucking small was this town?_ Ned was the principal of the local high school, and it was a right fit position. 

“So, what brings you to Dusty Pines?” Ned asked, grinning brightly, his arms crossed. 

“I’m… investigating the murders?” Shane replied, not meaning to phrase it as a question. 

“Oh.” Ned’s grin faded into a sympathetic, nervous smile, and when he spoke again, it was in a soft tone. “They’re awful, aren’t they? Everyone’s nervous and-- and it’s reasonable.” 

Shane nodded, opening his mouth to speak, before Ned spoke again, softer than before, a whisper. 

“Watch out for Andrew.” 

It sent chills down Shane’s spine, the soft tone, the scared eyes in a man so happy. 

“I have-- have… to go--” Shane began, stammering a bit. 

The grin returned full force, and Ned straightened his posture, beaming at Shane. “You stay safe, detective!” 

Shane went on his way, a shadow over his shoulders. _Who was Andrew?_

It seemed that fate was really testing the man, as he stumbled upon a girl chasing after a small dog, screaming bloody murder. Her dark, short hair was fluffy, bangs too long, hazing her vision. The overalls she dressed herself in were a bit loose, and one side was left unbuckled, the fabric flapping as she ran. The dog in question looked to be a terrier of some sort, and a fast one at that, one that Shane quickly moved and snatched by the scruff, holding the wriggling animal still. 

“Shit!” the girl laughed, rushing to Shane’s spot and snatching the dog, “My fuckin’-- my girlfriend’s dog--” The panting really didn’t help her case as she held the dog, gasping for air. 

“Are… are you okay?” Shane asked, cocking his head a bit, “I-- Do you need water?” 

She swallowed some air and shook her head, laughing again, “No! No, I’m okay, I just-- I feel like I spend most of my weekdays chasing this dog around-- and--” 

She tilted her head forward, focusing on Shane. 

“Who are you?” 

It was a whirlwind, and Shane blinked. 

“Shane Madej.” 

“Not very helpful, bud.” 

“Detective… uh, investigating the murders.” 

The girl’s mouth opened in an ‘o,’ and her eyes widened. 

“You’re the city guy! Everyone’s been excited to see you! You’re, like, some kind of savior--” 

“Savior is going a bit far,” Shane spoke dryly. 

She ignored the comment, and moved on. “I’m Jen. It’s nice to meet you, sir.” 

“Call me Shane,” he replied. 

Jen grinned, “Well, Shane, then. It’s good to have a friendly face in here. It’s been getting too shady recently, with all this stuff.” 

“Yeah, I’ve… noticed,” Shane said as he rubbed the back of his neck, sitting in awkward silence for a few moments. 

“Well!” Jen finally spoke, “Good to meet you! I have to get this dog back, and I’m sure you’re busy-- so-- so-- uh…” 

She made an awkward sidestep. 

“See ya!” 

And so, Jen was off, and Shane stood in the kicked up dust and gravel, confused by the events that had just transpired, 

Why were these people so upbeat in a time of crisis? 

Shane almost didn’t want to question it, but marked it down in the notes in his head as he walked towards the mayor office. It was a rather official building, and he entered by walking up the steps, opening the door with a tired expression. 

“Name?” 

Shane’s head snapped over to the receptionist: a smaller man with almost silver hair and a sweet smile. 

“What?” Shane asked, entirely exasperated. 

“Your name, sir?” the receptionist repeated. 

“Shane… Shane Madej?” the investigator managed as his head filled with a staticy, wet blanket feeling. He didn’t want to space out now, but soon enough the receptionist was snapping him out of his broken TV head and into the world. 

“What?” Shane asked suddenly, eyes adjusting to being in the present, no more haze. 

“I said you’re checked in, Mr. Madej, you can go right on up to the mayor’s office. Sheriff Bergara is already there, and Mr. Lee Yang should be in there, too!” 

Shane nodded, still standing, unmoving. 

“...it’s just up the stairs, sir,” the receptionist spoke as Shane focused on the nameplate on the man’s desk. 

_Steven Lim_

“Right,” Shane said softly, starting to move up the stairs and towards the office, “Thank you.” 

The only sound in his head was the tick-tacking of the keyboard Steven was typing on, and soon enough, the door to the office was opened. 

Shane was met with a sight to behold. 

Zach was very much right about the mayor being great. 

At the very least, Mayor Eugene Lee Yang was a fucking sight in himself. He was probably one of the most well-dressed people Shane had ever seen, with his smart suit, his clean hair, barely fluffed, almost slicked back, and his wandering eyes. In all honesty, Shane wasn’t prepared for most of the people to be hot. What could one bisexual do against a town of hot people? Not very much! Not very much, indeed. That’s why he stood, gripping the door handle, staring at Eugene, who stared right back. 

It was entirely terrifying, and Shane wanted to go home. 

“Detective Madej, please, sit down,” Eugene spoke coolly. 

Shane opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it at the last minute, going to sit in a chair beside Bergara, who had just recently put down his phone. 

“Now,” the mayor spoke, arms behind his back, as he strode to the window overlooking the forests outside the town, “there’s obviously a problem in this community, and this is why I enlisted you to help us, Mr. Madej. It’s already terrible enough that we cannot solve what happened in our town, why everything did as it did, but Mr. Bergara cannot solve this alone. I need you to understand that you need to be dedicated to the end of this, no matter the circumstances.” 

Shane blinked having been entirely focused on Eugene’s hair, almost wanting to touch and see if it really was fluffy. 

“Do you understand, detective?” 

Shane nodded quickly, snapping out of his daydream, “Yes, sir, of course.” 

Eugene nodded. “Sheriff, would you please show Mr. Madej the case file?” 

Ryan nodded, and suddenly, Shane was entirely focused on him. The case file was put in front of him, but all Shane could manage was to focus on Ryan’s hands. Ryan’s hands, Ryan’s soft, yet calloused hands. Ryan’s perfectly trimmed nails. The cuts on Ryan’s knuckles from some sort of forceful scrape. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. Shane wanted to write, in his head, an epiphany muffled by a mental breakdown with the silver lining of Ryan. He wanted to know everything and anything about the man he had almost hit with his car… he wanted to know what it was like to watch your friends bodies be carted off, what Ryan had felt. 

He wanted to ease those wounds. 

Shane chalked it down as a want due to lack of sex, and directed his gaze to the file, opening it. 

He almost wasn’t prepared for the pictures of the bodies. He’d seen bodies so many times, after gang homicides, murders, all that. Domestic abuse fucked people up when they died, and Shane had to focus on the fact that this wasn’t like that. The bodies looked so pale, so destroyed, drained almost completely of blood, and it churned Shane’s stomach as he remained stone faced, listening to Ryan read off the names of the victims, his fingertips grazing over a photo of a mangled corpse, eyes entirely focused on the way the cuts worked, the way they opened a body full of aspirations. 

This was a small town, everyone was _friends._

Someone’s friend had killed them. 

“I need to see the bodies,” Shane spoke suddenly, looking up and locking eyes with Eugene, then Ryan, swallowing, “The cuts aren’t made by a weapon normally used, they’re too jagged and rough, almost like an animal did it.” 

Ryan sat silent, and finally, Eugene spoke after contemplation. 

“You can go see the bodies, then,” he said, rough and almost hoarse. 

Shane nodded. 

It would be a long vacation in Dusty Pines, Shane decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY THE SAGA CONTINUES. eugene is worst mayor.


	3. that sinking feeling

“So who’s Andrew?” Shane asked as the gravel of the road crunched under their feet, he and Ryan heading towards the morgue. 

“Huh?” Ryan replied, snapping out of his talk about his parents. It had been very intriguing, sure, but Shane was a bit more focused on trying to solve a murder case rather than having a talk over brunch. “Oh, he’s just a guy in town-- He’s Steven Lim’s boyfriend? The two of them are like this.” Ryan crossed his fingers together, shrugging and dropping his hand after a moment. 

“What about Andrew and Ned?” Shane pressed, staring straight ahead at the foggy road. God, it was hard to see past the fence that marked the building they were to enter. 

“Rivals,” Ryan said easily, giving a broad gesture of his hand, “It’s useless to put them in the same room, they’ll fuck with each other until someone gets hurt.” 

“ _Gets hurt_?” Shane asked, snapping his head over to look at Bergara. 

“Yeah, their feelings?” Ryan snorted, glancing over from the corner of his eyes, “You know, they’ll wound each other with words, not with swords.” 

Shane swallowed, “Right.” He needed another question, there just wasn’t something right with what Ned had said. “But they’ve never gotten particularly violent with each other.” 

“Listen, if you think it’s either of them, I think you’re off by a mile,” Ryan said, finally turning his head to meet Shane’s gaze, “They’re both upstanding members of society, despite their flaws. Andrew’s dating the receptionist of the mayor, and Ned works with every student in the town at some point. They’d be caught if they did anything.” 

Shane looked at his partner incredulously, “No, they’d be the ones to get away with it! Have you done any fuckin’-- some research? The upstanding members are more likely to get away with it, no one suspects them!” 

Ryan stopped suddenly, turning on his heel and crossing his arms, eyes following the taller man who kept walking. “I’ve done my research, Mr. Madej.” 

“Really?” Shane shot over his shoulder, taking a few more steps then stopping in the road, “Because, to me, it seems like you’ve taken zero courses on anything involving anything.” 

Ryan scowled, “What got you so bitter?” 

Shane turned suddenly, throwing his hands up, “Everyone in this town acting like they’re having a fucking party when people are dying! Everyone I've met-- or even seen? They don't care about what's happening!” 

“No one’s acting like--” 

“WELL NO ONE’S FUCKING GRIEVING!” 

Ryan closed his mouth, staring down Shane, who stood in the middle of the road, breathing heavily as his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. 

“Keith warned us you’d be stressed, but not this bad,” Ryan spoke blankly, only creating a monster in the middle of the road as he continued, “He assured us that after your mental breakdown, you’d be fit to serve, but--” 

Shane was fast on his feet, immediately moving closer to his partner, staring into Ryan’s eyes as Ryan stared back. The abyss wasn’t moving, and Shane was almost afraid he’d be swallowed whole as a bad feeling in his bones settled. 

“Watch it,” Shane growled, eyes wild. 

“You’re telling your boss what to do?” Ryan taunted. 

“I think you’re a bit underqualified to call yourself that, Bergara,” Shane spat. 

“Calm down, Mr. Madej,” Ryan hissed, eyes narrowing, “we wouldn’t want to have to report you to your supervisor, huh?” 

Shane swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a hesitant step back, still glowering. “Fuck you.” 

“You’d like to,” Ryan laughed, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, wow, thanks for that response. How’s the eighth grade treating you?” Shane said with a head shake, going to rub at his eyes. How many times did he have to count to ten before he felt like he wouldn’t pull another stunt? It felt like too many. 

“Are… are you good?” Ryan asked hesitantly after a few beats of silence, of watching Shane scrub at his eyesockets. 

“Fuck off,” Shane snapped, lifting his head, anger still present in his eyes. Ryan shrunk back a bit. 

“Look, I didn’t mean-- It was out of line to--” 

“Shut up,” Shane said suddenly, running a hand through his hair and making more of a mess of it, “I just want to get this case solved so I can get the fuck out of Sunshineville where no one fucking cares when seven Goddamn people die-- I want to go the fuck home and pretend I’m working on a case where people actually give a shit about the victims and want to listen to facts. Are you fucking good with that, Bergara?” 

Ryan stood silent, wide eyed, but finally nodded. 

“Good,” the detective sighed as he licked his lips, gazing to the tiny almost-hospital, “then let’s get the fuck on with it.” 

The walk was quiet, and Shane almost regretted his temper that had manifested in the form of extreme stress. There was something about this town that made him so angry, though. Something about this place brought out the worst in him, like the fog was just suffocating and angry. Shane wasn’t sure what was happening, honestly. Usually he didn’t snap that bad, and he made a mental note to apologize. 

So, he did so, as they examined the body of a girl from town. Everything was cold and clinical, and no feelings were harbored by Shane for a girl he didn’t know, in a town he didn’t know, in a world he was unfamiliar with navigating. All he could focus on was the smell of formaldehyde as he tried to pick apart what could dissect a young woman with such ease and drain her of blood so easily. 

“I’m sorry,” Shane finally spoke, taking a note in the pad he’d brought along with him, “I shouldn’t have snapped.” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” Ryan sighed, “I shouldn’t have been a dick.” 

“This place makes me angry,” Shane said, shaking his head. 

“I get it,” Ryan replied. 

“No, it’s like this suffocating feeling, like something’s pressing down on me. This places gives bad vibes and--” 

“It goes away over time. You get used to it, Shane,” Ryan said picking at the rubber of his left glove. 

Shane was about to ask what Ryan meant when Eugene appeared in the doorway, hands shaking and out of breath. 

“There’s been another murder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we'll unlock shane's tragic backstory in another chapter, but up next we'll learn more about ryan. thanks for all the kind comments, and i know this chapter is short, but DOUBLE UPDATE. i have work two days in a row, so i don't know if i'll post tomorrow or the day after! be patient, kiddos!
> 
> EDIT: we hit 420. BUT ALSO. i forgot to mention my tumblr is 'boifriendunsolved' if you want to send me your thoughts on the fic, talk about how you think it should go, or send me anything you want, go ahead!


	4. incompetent

In every version of the universe, Ryan Bergara was not meant to be a sheriff of any kind. Written in the cosmos, a plan was made, and those stars exploded to make an entirely new one. Ryan Bergara was not meant to be a sheriff, but it seemed that he defied expectations and double crossed fate in the form of taking a small-town-sheriff job. 

And he paid for it. 

But, for the time being, before he found his repentance, Ryan was a very happy man with a very happy outlook. Optimism greets people in the best and worst of ways, and it greeted Ryan in many ways. It greeted him when he woke up, it greeted him when he got to talk to some friendly people in town, and it greeted him in the worst way when Shane Madej was called in to help him investigate murders that were going on in his town. 

Ryan really, really wanted to believe he could handle this himself. 

He wanted so badly to believe he wasn’t incompetent. 

It seemed that anywhere he went, that word followed him. _Incompetent_. Who the fuck deserves to be told that? Ryan wanted to believe he wasn’t incompetent, he wanted to try so hard to show everyone he could do something right, and he wanted to show everyone he could solve this case by himself. 

That’s why he sat in the mayor’s office, picking at his hands, trying to talk Eugene into not hiring the investigator. 

“I-- I really think I can do this on my own, sir--” Ryan started again, stopping and shrinking down a bit when he heard the long sigh from the mayor. He just wanted to prove to Ryan that he could do this, that he could do anything anyone asked. People were dying, people in the town he was supposed to protect were dying. 

He hadn’t even done anything. He was trying, he was really trying, but the odds were against him. He’d been interviewing people, he’d been searching for so long for some answer. When he got stressed, he hallucinated and all he could see was… 

Brent. 

Brent looming around. Brent watching him. Brent always being there. He was going insane, knowing his friend was fucking dead, had just been killed, and now he was going fucking crazy and seeing the guy who’d gotten him his job, moved him out here. He had to watch his friend’s fucking sad eyes follow him, and he’d spent so fucking long crying that he wasn’t sure he could cry anymore. He’d spent his times mulling over evidence with alcohol at his side as he tried not to remember the fact that these were his friends’ bodies. His friends were dead and he couldn’t solve anything, he couldn’t fucking do anything right. 

He was useless. 

But he wanted to believe he wasn’t, he wanted to prove he wasn’t. 

He wanted to show everyone he was worth more than they thought. 

But now he was being replaced by someone better. 

“Ryan,” Eugene spoke, exhausted by this onslaught of, “I can do this, sir,” “all I’m doing is getting you some help, alright? I know you’re very capable of solving this, but this is a big deal, this is something huge, and even if it were me, I would want someone by my side. A confidant.” 

A confidant. 

_A replacement_ , the little voice in his head said. 

“But--” Ryan started. 

“Ryan.” 

Ryan stared at his shoes, feeling like a little kid. This is how he was always fucking treated, like a kid. People never believed him in terms of anything. He was always undermined, he was always told he wasn’t good enough, he was always told he was useless, stupid, incompetent. 

“His name’s Shane Madej, and he’s just a helper, a very good detective.” 

Ryan had heard the snip-its from Steven, though, from Andrew. 

“... _he had a mental breakdown at the police station_ …” 

“... _they said he got too stressed out, that he was throwing papers around and screaming and crying_ …” 

“... _they’re sending him here as his first job back_ …” 

“... _I think they just don’t want a ticking time-bomb on their hands_ …” 

Ryan liked to stick to facts. Since he was young, reality had been shifty. There were little triggers to it, like graveyards, haunted places, spooky shit, stressors, y’know? 

He thought he could see dead people. 

Eventually, it was ruled out as hallucinations brought on by psychosis and BPD, and he turned out to be normal Ryan Bergara. Not the kid from The Six Sense. Just regular, ol’ Ryan Bergara who was the incompetent kid who tried to ignore how he’d see dead people roam the streets, how he had pitched a fit when he had to go to his grandma’s funeral, who wanted so badly to believe that his brain wasn’t the issue, that he was just different in a way no one knew but him. 

He wanted to have control over his life. 

They’d given him pills, and the pills made him monotone, like a wet blanket was over his face. The pills made him feel like dying, and they made him wonder if someone would see him when he inevitably killed himself. The thought had made him laugh as he pushed himself through getting a Bachelor’s in Computer Science, and the thought made him inch closer to grabbing that bottle, taking it all at once, and then going to sleep. 

Brent, though, Brent had been pushing for him to come to Dusty Pines. 

“ _Yeah, they need a position as a Sheriff, and it’s an easy job! I’m close with the mayor, and he’s a new guy, I can get you the spot! You get a place to stay, you get out of shitty L.A., you get away from your stupid family!_ ” Brent had yapped excitedly over the phone. 

“ _Can I… think about it_?” Ryan had laughed nervously, rubbing at his neck, “ _Chicago’s super far away, Brent_.” 

“ _I’ll be here, man_!” Brent laughed, “ _You got me, and you’ll love the place. It’s awesome. I know you hate that I moved away, but let’s get the gang back together, plus some more._ ” 

“ _I’ll… think about it_ ,” Ryan reaffirmed, swallowing, “ _Give me a few days_.” 

Day one passed. 

Ryan wrote five notes, and then hid them in a file on his computer while sitting in his apartment, alone. 

Day two passed. 

He had five messages from Brent hyping up Dusty Pines. His pills seemed more interesting. 

Day three came. 

Ryan wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing in his bathroom, staring at his face, or his arms, or thinking how he was incompetent. 

His phone buzzed one, twice… 

Ryan looked at the bottle on the counter. 

Three times. 

There was a quick action, Ryan moved too fast to think, too fast to think about doing anything else than what he was doing. He couldn’t live like this, he couldn’t exist in this monotone greyness, and he forced the pill bottle open as the phone buzzed a fourth time. He wasn’t going to stay in fucking L.A., he wasn’t going to be in a shitty apartment, he was going to be fucking happy. He was going to make sure he was happy. He was going to be competent when he did this. Everyone would know him as the fucking guy who could do anything and everything, and he grinned as he took a step... 

and then dumped the pills into the toilet, flushing them, picking up his phone and answering Brent’s call. 

“ _I’d love the job_.” 

It was one thing to spend your entire life in a world of mysteries and figures and nothing, but Ryan felt clearer in Dusty Pines. He felt happy in a suffocated way, but there were no figures, really. People were buried a little ways outside of town, Ryan stayed away from there, and he could study everything in town under a guise of fact. 

Facts meant reality. 

Reality meant nothing crazy happened. 

Up until now. 

Now it meant sitting in Eugene’s office, feeling like you were going to cry, unsure of what was happening. He hadn’t really trained for this fucking job, he’d just gotten it, basically illegally. Eugene was probably regretting hiring him, he’d only been here a year and he wasn’t sure what he was fucking doing! He wasn’t sure what he was DOING! _HE COULDN’T FUCKING FEEL ANYTHING ANYMORE, HIS BEST FRIEND WAS DEAD. **HE LET HIS BEST FRIEND DIE**_. 

**_INCOMPETENT!_**

**_USELESS!_**

_**YOU SHOULD’VE FUCKING DONE IT, YOU SELFISH ASSHOLE!**_

_**HE’D STILL BE HERE!** _

__“RYAN!”_ _

__Ryan snapped his head up from his shoes, eyes wide, his shoulders shaking. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe._ _

__“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Eugene said softly._ _

__Ryan’s stomach churned as he answered, “My friends are dead.”_ _

__“Some are, yes.”_ _

__Ryan’s eyes glanced down to his shaking hands, the skin of the left one now bleeding from being picked raw._ _

__“Ryan?” Eugene tried._ _

__“Hire the investigator,” Ryan spoke, not looking up from the blood pushing out of his wounded knuckles, “I think we need him.”_ _

__And that was the end of that._ _

__That was the end of that, and now he was standing with Shane Madej in front of where the wounded body of Ned Fulmer had been found. Ryan was stiff, still, while Shane talked with Eugene. Eugene had screamed murder, but it had seemed Ned was too lucky to die, and ended up with a slashed up body that was being tirelessly worked on at the hospital they’d just been at. A hospital ill-equipped, Ryan knew. Ned would probably die, why weren’t they sending him to the city? What were they doing? Ned would be lucky as shit if he lived, having been found bleeding out in the woods, found by Eugene on his run. It was so odd to know from Shane that he’d talked to Ned days earlier._ _

__And it was even more eerie when he heard Ned’s words repeated by the investigator._ _

___Watch out for Andrew._ _ _

__Ryan wanted to vomit, he wanted to claw out his insides, he wanted to be done with this stupid town just like Shane had yelled at him, just like Shane had essentially called him stupid with his facts, made sure he knew he was incompetent. Maybe that’s why he goaded a mentally ill man, went after that time-bomb because he wanted someone to hurt just like he felt hurt. He wanted someone to feel how he felt when they’d called him crazy when he saw ghosts, or weak when he had fainted at the sight of Brent, or whiny when he’d cried over his friends dying. He wanted people to see him more than a personality disorder, more than anxiety and self medication! Ryan Bergara wanted to be sure in one thing, and it was facts. He knew he facts, but Shane knew better, because Shane was probably his replacement! Sure, Ryan felt like a crackpot just storming sweet, bloody disassociation in his head, but he didn’t have anything else to go off of!_ _

__What did you do when you knew ghosts were real, when you could see them, but no one else believed you?_ _

__What did you do when everyone treated you like a pest except for one man and he was dead?_ _

__What did you do when you weren’t sure who to trust in town?_ _

___**what did you do, what did you do, what did you do, what did you do**_ _ _

__Ryan’s mind was screaming, and Shane touched his shoulder gently._ _

__“Your nose is bleeding, Ryan,” he spoke quietly._ _

__And, as Ryan touched his nostril, the world tilted and went to black. The man fainted with one image in his mind as his face mingled with forest ground and Shane rushed to get to him, as Eugene stood shaking with wide eyes._ _

__A figure alone in the woods, watching them, just past Eugene’s back. Ryan couldn’t tell it who it was. They were too far away. They were so far away, and the world was so cold, and he'd locked eyes with them and then they were gone in a blink of the eye._ _

__But he’d noticed the way blood coated their mouth, their lips, and their neck._ _

__As if they’d just enjoyed a meal._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ryan had bpd, anxiety, and does not have psychosis. do with that information what you will. shane's tragic backstory is not fully unlocked, but there is a snip-it. it's 3:36 AM when i'm posting this. remind me not to take my concerta after 7 PM.


	5. hospital blues

_“Ryan, c’mon, buddy, wake up…”_

_Ryan didn’t know what was happening, he didn’t know where he was, bed he gathered that he was laying down, that he was barely awake, and that when his eyes opened, he was met with the sight of none other than Steven Lim. Why was Steven here? Where was Shane? Eugene? They had to be somewhere. He really wasn’t in the mood to have Steven talk to him for two hours while his head pounded._

_“What happened…?” Ryan slurred, blinking at bright hospital lights._

_“You fainted,” Steven explained, “Out in the woods. You must’ve saw some pretty bad stuff to faint! Detective Madej carried you all the way here, too.”_

_“Where is he?” Ryan asked, “And-- and Eugene?”_

_“With Ned,” another voice answered, a low tone. Ryan liked to think the tones of a rich voice like this one could coincide with the rising doom that laid in the Jaws themesong, and his eyes opened once more, breath caught in his throat as he saw Andrew, standing a bit behind Steven, his eyes widening. “Calm down, he’s fine,” Andrew said easily, “Well, as fine as you can be after being ripped apart by some animal.”_

_“Animal…” Ryan started, thinking of the blood on someone’s mouth, down their neck, their throat, their grinning face._

_Andrew shrugged, “That’s what I’d assume it was.”_

_“Get out,” Ryan said hoarsely, “Both of you need to leave-- I need to see Shane--”_

_“What’s your rush?” Steven asked, almost looking hurt after being told to leave, “They’re interviewing Ned the best they can, and we kind of want to interview you!”_

_Ryan licked his lips nervously, “Interview me?”_

_“We want to know what scared you so bad,” Andrew explained, his eyes raking in the view of Ryan on a hospital bed, defenseless. He was at the mercy of Andrew, and suddenly Ryan was thinking about how little he knew about Andrew. He knew his name, he hardly knew his age, where he really worked, how he’d met Steven…”_

_“Curiosity killed the cat,” Ryan said, swallowing._

_“Satisfaction brought us right back, we like you that much,” Andrew replied, his gaze unwavering._

_“It’s classified,” Ryan croaked, not liking the dread in his stomach, the ominous feeling that was in the whole room that the two somehow ignored. That suffocating feeling was so strong, and Ryan wasn’t sure he could breathe as he tried to focus on giving as little answers as possible._

_“Well,” Andrew said idly, “Whatever you saw, you better watch out for.”_

_“No one wants you hurt,” Steven added cherrfully, smiling brightly._

_“Of course,” Ryan whispered, wide-eyed. “Cheer up! You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Steven laughed._

_“No, he’s not here,” Ryan replied in a daze, entirely terrified of this feeling in him, this conversation. He needed to get up, but he felt exhausted. He needed Shane here, he needed to talk to Shane about what he saw, he needed to tell him, warn him, warn him--_

_Watch out for Andrew._

_Ryan’s breath hitched._

_“You must still be waking up,” Steven smiled sympathetically, “We’ll get out of your hair so you can rest easy.”_

_“Y-yeah,” Ryan managed as the two headed for the door and said their goodbyes before leaving. Ryan wasn’t even sure what to do. His heart was racing, and he felt sick to his stomach, sick enough to have to lay down completely, not even sure when he started sitting up. He needed Shane, or Eugene, or someone practical and sane. He didn’t even care that Shane had implied he couldn’t take care of this case, he needed to tell him what he saw._

_The room was spinning, and he couldn’t keep up with it all, and he almost felt like he was drowning. He was falling asleep and in his sleep he was drowning. He was drowning, he was useless, he needed to tell Shane, he was a freak, he should just die, he was awful, he hated himself, he--_

“Ryan,” came a soft voice. 

Ryan’s eyes shot open as he sat up suddenly, his head and stomach entirely not liking that. 

“I was so fucking worried,” Shane managed, running a hand through his hair, “Part of the duo didn’t want to become an uno--” 

Ryan threw up into his own lap, a mixture of bile and spit with how little he’d eaten. 

Shane blinked. “Well, I’ve had worse greetings. Do I look that bad?” 

“Are you still mad at me because I was a dick to you, because-- because I have information and--” Ryan started, before he was coughing, slurring and shaking. 

“Ryan, I’m not mad.” 

“Thank God-- because I can’t have another person mad at me-- I can’t have someone thinkin’ that I’m--” A cough, a gag. “--a failure--” 

“Who said you were a failure?” Shane asked, cocking his head. 

“Everyone!” Ryan said loudly, his head cloudy. Too many questions. 

“Ryan, maybe you should lay down--” 

“Andrew was ‘n the woods!” Ryan yelled in return. 

Shane blinked once more, trying to process the information, “Ryan, I’m not sure--” 

“He was covered in blood! He-- he drank it or something, it was all over his face! I know it’s him, I know, I know, I know…” Why wasn’t Shane listening to him, why did he look so fucking worried? It was just him, Ryan, with puke in his lap and IVs in him. He wasn’t really sure why there were IVs, but they were there. He wasn’t sure why anything was anything. Why was he in the hospital? Why was he here? He just had had a nosebleed! You didn’t need IVs for a nosebleed and fainting. 

“Ryan, you’ve been in the hospital for a week,” Shane said quietly, “You fainted, you got sick or something, and now we’re here. It took fucking forever for your fever to mellow out. The doctor kept saying how you weren’t taking care of yourself and how your body got too stressed out.” 

“But Steven and Andrew--” Ryan started. 

“Were here five days again and said you were barely coherent,” Shane finished, going to step a bit closer and press the back of his hand to Ryan’s forehead, who blinked, exhausted and pale, as he looked up at the man. 

“Am I incompetent?” Ryan whispered. 

“You’re lucky you’re not dead, is what you are,” Shane replied, “You’re needed, too. Needed and lucky. I need you.” 

Ryan gave a tired smile, his head still uselessly pounding. It’d been a week? It hadn’t felt like a week. All that had happened was that Andrew and Steven visited, they left, he took a nap… and now… Shane. Shane who moved to pull his hand away, quickly grabbed by Ryan, who pressed his face to it in a sick daze. 

“Cold,” Ryan managed. 

“Bad circulation,” Shane laughed, not pulling his hand away. 

“I thought you hated me,” Ryan whispered, “I can’t have another person hate me…” 

“I don’t think anyone hates you, Ry,” Shane sighed, going to pet a hand through greasy hair, “I’m gonna get a nurse to clean you up. You’re starting to smell like puke, dude.” Ryan didn’t even care what Shane was saying, just nuzzling against his cold hand as his fever kept him high in the clouds and Shane being there kept him grounded. A tug of war, who would win. 

“Whattabout Ned?” Ryan finally said after the nurse button had been pressed. 

“He’s getting better, I’ve been trying to talk to him about what happened and he won’t budge.” 

“Andrew did it…” came Ryan’s tired reply. 

“That’s what Eugene and I think too, buddy. But, we’ve been needing you. For being a mayor, Eugene hardly knows anything about anything. I need your insight. You’re our best shot for solving this shit. You know everything about everyone because you care so much about people and bothered to learn everything little detail-- are you kissing my hand?” 

“No,” was Ryan’s muffled reply, his entire face in Shane’s palm, by that point, “My lips are just… just pressed against your skin… I wanna be cold…” 

“Yeah, you’re still pretty hot, but hot as hot as before. Your fever’s gone down--” 

“I’m a stud.” 

“...truly. Please don’t throw up on me.” 

Ryan nodded, his face still in Shane’s hand. “I won’t.” 

“Are you gonna throw up?” 

Ryan nodded. 

Shane shifted, going to replace his hand with a trash can, and went to rub at Ryan’s back as he threw up in the trash can, which was the sight the nurse was greeted with. A grown man rubbing a small grown man’s back while the smaller grown man laid in bed, covered in his own vomit. They were supposedly very functioning adults solving a case, but… Shane was starting to doubt that himself. 

“Listen, Ry, I’m gonna go talk to Ned, talk to Eugene, but I’ll be back, okay?” he smiled as Ryan kept his head in the trash can, patting his back, “You just gotta get changed, get some rest, and then we’ll be back on this case.” 

Ryan nodded with a groan. 

“Okay, buddy, love you,” Shane spoke, without thinking about it, leaving the room. 

Ryan didn’t even remember getting changed, cleaned up, but the next time he awoke there was an ache in his bones, a pounding in his head, and a hitch in his heart as he saw that across the room sat a sleeping Shane Madej, his head pressed into his cheek as he breathed slowly. 

He was needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a filler chapter bc the next one is a eugene chapter and i have to go into his whole backstory blah blah blah so basically this is the chapter where ryan gets sick for nnnnumerous reasons (which will be explained later) and we meet andrew who is probably the shadiest guy around. was andrew in the woods? was it someone else? you decide! we needed some fluff after ryan having several mental breakdowns anyways
> 
> but yeah you get a eugene chapter. everyone who keeps saying that hes the murderer gets a gold star taken from them


	6. dear old dad

“Straighten your tie, Eugene.” 

The 20 year old stood in front of the mirror, fixing his appearance in a strained manner, his father idly hovering behind him. His entire demeanor was stressed, a hidden nervousness in his features that glowed in a stern look as he watched himself in the mirror. 

He didn’t like what he saw. 

He looked like his father, a mini version of his dad, with the strained look, the straightened back, the cold eyes, the almost frown. He looked like a bitter man who didn’t like anything about his position, his newfound grace that was as ethereal as a swan getting its wings clipped. In all terms of things, he was a bird being gripped tightly in the hands of his father who wanted the bird to be taught to fly with a limp. Broken wings didn’t make for good flights, and Eugene stared at himself in the mirror, his lungs feeling like they were full of lead. 

“You look wonderful,” his father spoke behind him, no praise evident in the compliment. It was so odd to Eugene how every bit of niceness his father gave was hidden behind a wave of mystery, a sheen of judgment. 

“I feel like a Ken doll being dressed up,” Eugene said softly, his voice entirely unconfident. 

“No,” the man behind him replied, resting his hands on Eugene’s shoulders so the young man could see him hovering by way of the mirror, “you feel like a champion, Eugene.” 

Eugene swallowed, nodding slightly, “A champion.” 

“You’ll be great, someday.” 

_Am I not great now?_ Eugene thought to himself, his eyes taking in the sight of his father’s face beside his own. He could pick out the similarities. They were a carbon copy of the strained relationship that ran in the family. He was to be the carbon copy of success, and he was to be great. 

But, for the time being, he stood unsure of whether he wanted to be amazing, or whether he wanted to be able to breathe without wanting to scream and cry and shout. He wondered if wearing a corset of expectations was really right for him, because as his ribs and body shaped to fit the attachment, he was starting to miss out on the points of him that had been… him. 

He felt like his dad, and that was the biggest fear: that he would become the man. He would become a bitter, jaded, sad man who didn’t know what he wanted in life, while still wanting everything that could be offered. Was it narcissism? Did he deserve anything he got? They’d both had a hard life, they’d both been a mess, they were both… thunderstorms that rumbled and yelled to be noticed with cracks of lightning. 

Eugene wasn’t sure when he had gone from overcast to hurricane, but it scared him. It was like when someone got bit by a zombie in a horror film, and they slowly became something they weren’t. He didn’t believe he was becoming mindless, though, he was just becoming… cold, closed off, unempathetic. There was a difference between a man being introverted, versus a man breathing in smoke just to feel a burn to feel human. 

“You will be great,” his father repeated, giving a small smile. 

Eugene stared at the man in the mirror, and for the first time, he didn’t see Eugene. 

He saw his father, completely and wholly. 

He saw his father, a young man whom he emulated as he rose in the ranks of being a young politician. He didn’t see himself, the man who had wanted to be a model, who had been deemed too smart to just stand around and wear clothing. He was a man who had forgotten what he was like, who forgot what he was doing with his life. He wasn’t sure anymore, and he spent time after time improving an image that wasn’t his, that was owned by his father. Everyone in Chicago would know his fucking name, and he would make sure of it. Everyone would love Eugene Lee Yang. 

Except for Eugene Lee Yang himself. 

It was how Eugene, pressed by his father for so long, was sitting in a club bar, was drinking slowly and observing a world he had forgotten. He had forgotten about clubs, what it had been like to sneak into these places. He had forgotten how he dreamed of men, and how he could press his body to theirs and forget about everything and anything. He had forgotten how when he was a kid, he had told his late mother how he liked a boy in his class. She hadn’t been angry, but as she left, and his dad emerged, a sexuality was hidden, and he pressed down something that he wasn’t sure of. 

And now, in a club, at 23, he pressed against someone he wasn’t sure of. He danced and laughed and drank with this bargoer, he whispered about how he loved how the man danced, and he’d gotten a laugh in response. He laughed as they slipped into the bathroom. He moaned as the man fucked him against a fucking dirty bathroom wall, and he relished when he slumped as he was held in the club bathroom, his face pressed to the man’s shoulder, panting. 

Eugene almost felt holy in a club bathroom, full of cum, with a stranger. It was a silent ‘fuck you’ to his father. 

It was a loud ‘fuck you’ when pictures were released of a young politician, Eugene Lee Yang, kissing a man on a club dance floor, grinding, basically humping each other. It was a scream of a ‘fuck you’ when Eugene fell from his graceful position of serenity in high society and became an undesirable candidate for anything and everything. Maybe that’s why he was so desperate to impress after fucking up so monumentally. Maybe that’s why he was so eager to please his dad, maybe that’s why when he found out of a mayoral position opening in a small town, something he could be a shoe-in for, he jumped as high as they said they wanted him to. 

He wanted to be more than a whore in a club bathroom. 

He wanted to feel as holy as he did with his legs spread as he received the attention he’d missed. He felt even holier, though, when he impressed and shut everyone out from the real him. People could take pictures of him dancing, but fuck them! He would be amazing! He would be everything everyone wanted! If they didn’t want a whore, they’d get a businessman! If they didn’t want a businessman they’d get a mayor! _If they didn’t want a professional they’d get a hot mess who couldn’t fucking breathe when he took his clothes off and couldn’t look in the mirror too long for fear of seeing a man who had been the monster under the bed that his mother had died in._

Eugene wondered if his father felt the same way about himself, the same way Eugene felt. 

He wondered if he was exactly like his greatest fear. 

He wondered if he was good enough. 

He wondered why there was such a feeling of dread and suffocation in him as he entered the town. He wondered why he felt so cold about each and every person, and why he was intrigued into this position. He wondered why slowly, just slowly, people dropped from the race. 

He wondered why he won by default and became mayor of Dusty Pines. He wondered why people treated him so coldly, yet warmly, why Ned Fulmer warned him that being a mayor was tough. He wondered if he was really in control. He wondered if he was doing anything right, and why suits fit so weird, and why he wanted to wear his old clothing, not everything professional. He wondered if his dad was proud, and if his mother would have cared. He wondered if the man in the club could have been something, and he wondered if pictures of him dry humping a leg were really that bad when every dream you had was insecurities about being gay. 

He wondered what he was fucking doing when he ran into Zach Kornfeld. 

He wondered why he’d been crying, because he hadn’t felt it, and walking down the main street at night had made him feel entirely awful, like he had tar in his fucking lungs. It felt the same way it had when his father had called him a disgrace and had told him if he wanted to act like a whore, he should try that profession instead of pretending to be a figure of power. He felt like a crushed bird, and he just wanted to fucking _please._

He wanted someone to know that he was okay. 

He wanted to know himself. He wanted to know if he’d be okay. 

Eugene wanted to breathe easily, and whisper someone’s name as a blessing, not as a curse. He wanted to pretend he was alive and well and not a mistake. He wanted his mother back, he wanted to hug her and cry and cry and say he was so fucking sorry for not being close enough to her. He wanted to cry and tell her that she was everything to him and that he couldn’t live like his father anymore. He couldn’t breathe like this anymore, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t live as a mirror image in a rippling pond where the picture didn’t come right. His dad was a perfect book from start to finish, but for Eugene, pages were missing and he couldn’t fill in the fucking blanks. 

“Are you okay?” Zach asked softly, cocking his head. 

Eugene stared at him in the darkness, nodding his head uselessly as his mouth opened but no sound escaped. Maybe his dad had taken his voice, too. 

“You don’t seem okay.” 

Eugene coughed, trying to find his voice, then spoke in a hoarse whisper, “ _I’m fine._ ” 

Zach gave a little crooked smile, adjusting his glasses, “Well, you seem pretty roughed up to me, man. Do you want to, like…” Was this pity? Was Zach taking pity on the new mayor who was a week into his job and already crying in the street? “Do you want to come to my place? Just have some support? It’d kind of suck to come to a new town and have no one.” 

Eugene wasn’t sure if he’d ever had anyone. 

But, that was how he’d ended up in the home of Zach Kornfeld, sitting on the soft couch, shaking, with a cup of tea in his hands. 

“It’s probably pretty rough, to just be thrown into this place,” Zach said sympathetically, trying to be comforting. 

Eugene nodded, staring into his tea. He was being pitied, he was being treated like a little kid who’d fucked up. He’d broken a glass, he had glass in his hand, and he wasn’t used to someone else picking the shards out for him when his dad had told him to do it himself. He wasn’t used to this attention when he was the best, when he had to fend for himself, when he had to do everything. 

Zach smiled, resting a hand on Eugene’s knee, looking at him, “I hope you know you’re a friend here, and that you can come to me, okay? Mi casa es su casa! You… need someone, and I’ll be a little support beam to keep that roof from caving it. This town’ll care about you, dude!” 

Eugene glanced up, swallowing, with wide eyes, and set his mug down. 

“You’re the mayor, you’re an important guy, we gotta care about--” Zach started. 

He was interrupted with Eugene’s lips crashing into his. It wasn’t entirely unmet, not at all, really. For a nerdy looking guy, Zach had finesse, and his lips moved easily against Eugene’s, as Eugene pushed him back, climbing on top of him. 

Zach pulled away, catching some air as Eugene’s lips pressed to his neck, fierce and rough. “Jesus Christ-- maybe we should--” he started, heart racing. Eugene lifted his head a bit, gazing up at Zach with lust-blown, hazy eyes, just staring. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Zach groaned, rubbing his hand over his face, “Eugene, you can’t just fucking do that shit.” 

Eugene was entirely unfocused on Zach’s words. He wanted to feel holy, like he had in strangers beds when he was younger, like the club bathroom, like sleeping around. He wanted that angelic chorus of chanting during an orgasm and he wanted to rock to the sound of sirens as he rode Zach into the couch. He wanted to forget and forget and remember only Zach, only him. He wanted all that and more, and that’s why he was sucking a mark into the flesh of the other’s neck, hands wandering, touching, stroking. As Zach gave a loud keen, it was evident that this was them, this was what they were doing. 

“Lube?” Eugene asked, rough and low, as he lifting his head, going to sit up on Zach’s crotch, idly rolling his hips down again and again. He could almost hear Zach’s little curses and whimpers as a prayer to him, the god of this whole big bang. Everything starts with a bang, and that was what Eugene planned to do with the motel owner, his cock aching. He didn’t even think about Zach fumbling, reaching his arm to the table beside the couch and pulling open the drawer so he could toss a little tube to Eugene. Evidently, Zach had sex on this couch enough times, or at least did _something_ there. 

“Your fucking hips,” Zach whined as Eugene rolled down harder, going to press the palms of his hands to Zach’s chest, his breath coming out in little pants. 

“Yeah, you like them?” Eugene purred, grinning. 

“Love ‘em-- love you, love your fucking body--” 

Eugene’s head tilted back. Was that a kink? Being told you were loved? Maybe it was for Eugene, and it was enough encouragement for the man to pull his shirt up and off, tossing it to the side, revealing his chest, his torso, his hands going to rest back on Zach’s chest and push him down when he tried to sit up and touch. 

“In museums, you don’t touch the artwork,” the mayor growled, staring down Zach, who only closed his eyes, giving a choked up groan. 

“ _Fuck, Eugene._ ” 

“You want to, huh?” Eugene taunted. 

“Cocky ass--HOLE!” 

Zach’s voice elevated into a loud shout when there was suddenly a heavier pressure on his crotch, Eugene having moved back to his thighs so he could palm at, squeeze, Zach’s clothed cock and roll his hand over it again and again through his tight pants. 

“Ah! Ah-haaah--” Zach started, whimpering a loud litany of curses as Eugene worked on getting his belt undone, tossing it to the side, finally, then managing to get Zach’s pants down, his boxers. It was a nice surprise, to be able to do this, see a guy like this. Normally he’d have to watch some porn, bury his feelings in a girl he wasn’t interested in, but this? This made him ache. It made him ache with want, made his cock throb as he got to watch Zach’s dick dribble out pre-cum, his movements stilled so he could watch for a moment. 

“Excited,” Eugene commented. 

“Fuck off,” Zach whined, a hand over his eyes, his glasses having fallen off, “Are you just going to fuckin’-- fucking sit and stare?” 

“I’m _admiring,_ ” Eugene scoffed. 

“Well, _admire_ by getting my dick inside you!” 

“Maybe we won’t even do that.” 

Zach groaned loudly in frustration as Eugene worked on his pants, getting them slipped down to his thighs alongside his boxers, managing to shift and squirm until he was able to get his cock pressed up against the other’s, nice and snug, going to slick up the two with a mix of what was leaking, along with the lube. He was so shaky, his hands shaking, his body shaking as he rolled his hips a bit, using his fist to grind and steadily hump. 

“ _Eugene-- Fuck!_ ” Zach gasped, going to quickly grab at the hunched over Eugene’s hair blindly, tugging hard. 

Eugene didn’t even realize what had happened until it had happened. His hair was pulled and everything was a blurry haze of white, and when he came back into everything, he was shaking horribly, cum splattered over himself and Zach, who stared up in awe. 

“ _Shut up,_ ” Eugene snapped, before Zach could speak, his cheeks a dark red, his body unstill. 

“Shh, shh, it’s fine, it’s fucking hot,” Zach said, deep and rough as he sat up, his hand still in Eugene’s hair, giving an experimental tug. He managed to get a whimper out of Eugene, watched the mayor’s eyes fall closed, see his cock twitch with interest. “You like getting your hair pulled?” 

“Pain,” Eugene choked out. 

“What?” 

“ _I like pain._ ” 

“Wow,” Zach marveled, taking a breath, before his eyes darkened. “ _Wow._ You act all fucking tough, all alpha wolf, but you cum when your hair is pulled a little too hard? Has it really been so long for you that it was _that_ easy?” 

Eugene whimpered, his lip bitten, his eyes closed. God, he didn’t want to get hard again that easy. He didn’t want to be a teenage boy, but Zach was tugging him by his hair, getting him to sit up right against his cock. He hadn’t expected to lose control, he never had control, though. What did he expect? He had to be the best, he had to be amazing, he had to be in control-- but Zach’s _hand in his hair._

“C’mon, Eugene, you were moving your hips like a slut a second ago,” Zach taunted as the mayor’s head dipped, as his hips slowly moved, sliding Zach’s wet, slick cock up against his hole, over past it, then rubbed back over it again. It was entirely overwhelming and compromising to be treated like this and Eugene wasn’t sure when he had last let someone else take care of him, tell him what to do in bed. 

Maybe the club. 

This was how he felt holy. 

“Look at you,” Zach sighed, trying to keep his voice even while his cock ached, while he wanted so bad to just fall into a series of whines. If he had to keep this up to see Eugene like _this?_ He would. Oh, it was so worth it. Eugene looked beautiful out of power, like a model. “You can’t even handle someone pulling your hair, someone telling you what to do, huh? You’re out of your fucking game, mayor. You’re so easy to play with. 

Eugene let out a sob of pleasure, his hands clenching into fists to hold the fabric of Zach’s shirt, his cock already half hard again. 

"I want to wreck you, though,” Zach hissed, grabbing the bottle of lube and getting a generous amount into his hand, slicking up his fingers. “I want you to know you’re not a big dog. I want you to know you’re not above anyone else, you’re no god.” 

Zach grinned, reaching around Eugene’s backside. 

“I think,” he started, pushing a finger in roughly, “you’re not a god, you’re a fallen angel.” Eugene’s mouth had fallen open, his nails clawing at Zach’s shirt clad skin, his eyes slammed shut as he made a series of keens, whimpers, whines. “You’re not special, perfect, holy....” With the finger moving in and out so roughly, slicked up and easily sliding into Eugene, the mayor gasped and hunched over further. “You’re just a normal guy, you’re just like us.” 

Eugene could feel tears dripping down his face, half pleasure, half emotion. Zach had no idea what he was saying. 

" _Again._ ” 

“What, sweetheart?” 

“ _Say that again. Please._ ” 

Zach smiled sweetly, shoving a second finger in. 

“You’re just like us.” 

Eugene was practically drooling, tears mingling with spit, as he tilted his head up to look at Zach, shudders racing through his body as his cock uselessly leaked. His palms were still pressed to Zach’s chest, and Zach gave a little half-smile, not entirely understanding the situation, but moving his hand from Eugene’s hair to his face, thumbing tears away. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Zach said quietly, “A fucking model.” 

Eugene’s heart hitched, and he nodded dumbly, sniffling, the fingers still rocking in and out of him. Holy, holy, holy. He was holy. 

“You think you’re good enough?” Zach asked, roughly taking his fingers out, drawing a choked up noise from Eugene who scrambled to climb into position, to force himself to take Zach into him and get everything he wanted for so long from someone, _anyone._

His heart was racing, he was aching, and as he slid down Zach’s cock, he whimpered loud and shaky, entirely undone from the man’s actions. 

“Shh, you’re fine, you’re fine,” Zach hummed, one hand moving to Eugene’s hip, the other going back into his hair. “You can wait a bit, you don’t have to rush.” 

“ _I want--_ ” 

“I know you want it, but you need to pace yourself and wait, Eugene. C’mon, you don’t get things-- _fuck_ \-- immediately, you’re normal. No special treatment.” 

Eugene gave a little noise, Zach sitting up so he could press a kiss to those beat up, bitten lips as he managed to slide Eugene up a bit, then snap his hips up, working a shout out of the mayor in the process. 

Neither of them lasted long, but all Eugene could think of was how this was what he wanted. This was what he needed, this was it all. He was holy, he was normal. He wasn’t a god, he wasn’t a deity, he wasn’t special. He wasn’t a Ken doll or a politician or a whore. He was average. He wasn’t a fucking champion, or anything absolutely perfect. 

He was average, and average people fucked on a motel owners couch, then snuck away in the morning. 

That was how life was for a mayor, for Eugene. Hide away every feeling, hide away every emotion, and then, when you see the crumpled figure of Ned Fulmer, lying in his own blood on the forest ground while you take your daily run? You run. You run, and you wonder something awful. 

_What if they take him next?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eugene's dad sucks in the fic, lmao. hes very neglected and controlled and this is just a short part of him??? also! ZAGENE! EUGENE ISNT AS CLOSED OFF AS WE THOUGHT!!!!


	7. who are you really

_“You’re being too obvious with all this,” Steven complained as he and Andrew walked along the main street in the afternoon, the overcast above them, the mist beneath their boots._

__

__

_“ **Obvious**?” Andrew asked with a glance over, eyes studying his partner, then their hands that were linked, their laced fingers. “What do you mean?” There was a hitch in his steps, in his bones._

_“You’re getting sad again,” Steven replied, shrugging as Andrew frowned and relaxed his shoulders, “I can tell.” Steven stopped, then, pulling Andrew to a halt with him. “You know, you can talk to me, right? You can talk to me about everything.”_

_Andrew thought back to the murders, thought of the monster that was out there, hunting people down. The small town was being rocked by killing after killing and Andrew thought about how he was doing nothing to stop it._

_“Andrew,” Steven repeated, quieter this time, “you really can talk to me.”_

_“Do you think they know they’re being led like sheep to slaughter?” Andrew said, low and almost choked, “Do you think they know what’ll happen to them before it happens?”_

_“Oh, Andrew,” Steven said, holding his partner at arms length and rubbing his thumbs over the skin of the man’s hands. “I think that this’ll all be solved, that it’ll all stop, and we’ll all be at peace, okay?”_

_Steven really did worry about Andrew, with how mysterious he was, with how he hid away his feelings. It wasn’t healthy, and he had to talk at some point. No one could hide behind a shroud of mystery, and Steven knew that. So, he gave a soft smile, going to cup his boyfriend’s cheek, the skin cold against his palm._

_“I really worry about you,” Steven said softly._

_Andrew swallowed, “There’s no reason to.”_

_“Are you still… y’know, guilty about everything that happened? Not stopping it all?”_

_Andrew nodded gently, “I… get it wasn’t really my fault, but he’s still gone, and now--”_

_“I’m still here,” Steven finished, his smile sad._

_“Yeah,” Andrew spoke, eyes flicking to Steven’s eyes, the ground, Steven’s shirt, anything he could use to distract himself._

_“Are you still going to ask around, meet the Sheriff and all that?” Steven asked, cocking his head._

_“I’m hesitant on it,” Andrew replied, shrugging, “I don’t really like new people, you know that, man.”_

_“Yeah,” Steven said, drawing his hand away and going back to walking with Andrew, “But you’re going to have to get over that at some point. New people will fill in the gaps old people left.”_

_Andrew hummed._

_“Hey?”_

_“Yeah?” Andrew asked, glancing over._

_“I love you, I hope you know that,and that you know you aren’t alone,” Steven said quietly, staring straight ahead, “You’re aren’t just one person, lost in the world.”_

_“Of course not,” Andrew smiled, “We’re partners in crime.”_

_“‘Til death do us part,” Steven laughed._

_“Later rather than sooner,” Andrew replied, smiling._

_“You have to go meet up with Ned, right?” Steven asked after they walked in silence for a few moments, “To get everything straightened out with him? Settle the feud?”_

_“Don’t remind me,” Andrew spoke dryly, frowning, “He’ll probably bitch and whine the entire time and then talk about his wife.”_

_“Well, hey, I’ll meet you there, okay? I can be a witness to the battle.”_

_Andrew laughed, shaking his head._

_**“Yeah, a witness.”**_

Andrew was panting, Andrew’s bones were screaming. He couldn’t feel himself, he couldn’t feel anything, and all he could think of was the earlier day, what they’d spoken of. A witness, a witness, a **witness**. He was aching, he was on fucking fire, and he could feel himself, on his knees, gorging himself on blood, a demon drinking from the still twitching body of Ned Fulmer. He was the monster under the bed, he was the anger, the fury. He was everything. He wasn’t sure how it’d gotten so bad, or why he went after Ned. 

Ned knew his secret, though, Ned knew who he was, what he was. 

The demon, now sharp toothed, blood splattered down his neck, dripping from his mouth, staining his claws, his shirt, his face; it hissed when it heard footsteps, snapping its head up. 

“Easy, it’s just me, Andrew,” came a quiet, yet kind voice. 

Andrew licked his lips, making a soft rumble, his eyes a deep yellow as he stared at his boyfriend. 

“You did a number on Ned,” Steven spoke, going to crouch beside the demon that was Andrew, the sharp-toothed, sharp-clawed creature, “Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?” 

Andrew made a soft clicking noise, taking in the sight of Steven, then pushing their foreheads together. Steven seemed entirely unfazed, and finally smiled when he felt the warmth of a fiery beast against his skin. 

_”Yeah, babe, your secret’s safe with me.”_

They were partners in crime, and Steven was the witness, the lookout, the secret-keeper. 

_And Andrew wouldn't have it any other way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the secret stays in the family, and the family stays in the town.
> 
> follow me on tumblr. boifriendunsolved. get updates and leaks. 
> 
> keep andrew's secret safe.


	8. it's dawning on us

“Do you have a girlfriend?” 

Shane’s head snapped up from the case file, the pictures he’d been studying. He and Ryan had been looking over every bit of information all day. He wasn’t sure what to do with it all, because nothing _added up_. It was all confusing and lost, and Shane was at a loss. Ned had the answers, but Ned would only talk to his wife, and his wife wouldn’t give a clear response because Ned wouldn’t give a clear response. It was frustrating as hell, and Shane swallowed, staring at Ryan. 

“A girlfriend?” he asked. 

“Or-- or a boyfriend?” Ryan offered helpfully. 

“Why’re you asking?’ Shane questioned, blinking. 

“Well-- I just want to learn more about you, man! It’s useless to be on a case with someone you don’t know, right?” 

Shane bristled, fixing Ryan with a hard stare. 

“What?” 

Shane continued staring. 

“What?! It’s a question!” 

“It’s a very personal one,” Shane deadpanned. 

“Well, I didn’t mean to pry--” 

“I don’t have a girlfriend or a boyfriend.” 

Ryan lit up a bit, to Shane’s dismay. There was some awful longing in his chest to explain what happened. He wanted to tell someone everything that had happened with Sara, but that would be a huge mistake. He already had her after him for fucking up her life, and he didn’t need Ryan to sit there, look into his eyes, and tell him he was fucked up. Of course he was fucked up! He was a fucked up guy who almost despised being here when he could’ve been next to Sara. 

“Did you-- uh-- did you have a girlfriend?” Ryan asked, cocking his head. Shane merely nodded his head, looking back down to the pictures and the papers in front of him, trying to force himself to get into a mindset of a serial killer, a demon of sorts. They sat there in silence for some time, and Shane took a breath in, then finally spoke. 

“I had a girlfriend, and I fucked up with her, and she left me. I deserve every single thing that happened to me,” he murmured. 

“I’m sure that’s not true--” Ryan began, before being silenced by a look from Shane. 

“I really didn’t help her situation, that’s for sure,” Shane grumbled in finality, as Ryan crossed his arms. 

“Enlighten me on the situation?” 

“It’s really not a thing you talk about with strangers.” 

Ryan looked hurt. “We’re not strangers, are we? I think we’re, um… friends? Right?” 

Shane blinked, then moved to rub the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Yeah, I guess… I just think she got the bad end of the stick-- short end...” 

“Well what’d you do to her?” 

Shane mumbled something incoherent. 

“Shane?” 

“I got her knocked up,” came the soft words from behind hands hiding Shane’s face. 

“Jesus, dude,” Ryan started. 

“...and then I had her abort the fucker-- because--” He yanked his hands away, looking a bit furious. “What was I supposed to do? Tell the girl that I love that I would love a kid when that was the furthest fucking thing from my mind?” 

“I mean… Did you just tell her to get rid of it? Did you go about something-- an agreement?” 

Shane swallowed, looking like a dog who was getting his nose stuck in a carpet of piss. “I guilt tripped her.” 

“You what?” 

“I told her a kid would turn out like an anxious wreck if it came from her and that it’d be a million times worse because it was my kid, too. Listen? The kid had a 50/50 shot of getting bipolar from me, and a big chance of having severe anxiety and she was-- she was _excited_.” Shane looked ashamed. “I told her the kid would turn out exactly like her to ensure that shithead didn’t come into formation and she listened to me and got it done… because I couldn’t handle my own mistake.” 

“Don’t you think that’s… fucked? ‘Cause that’s super fucked--” 

“Yeah, it’s completely fucked up. It’s horribly fucked up. I didn’t sleep right, and I still don’t. We never talked about it, I just picked up my stupid girlfriend from the clinic and we went to my apartment and we laid in bed together and pretended I hadn’t just ripped the rug out from under her and then said to her that she could learn to live on the fucking floor instead!” 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“And then when I had panic attacks I kept quiet about them and when she cried I told her it’d be okay! When I felt sad I shut up about it and I tried to make her into a queen because that’s what you do to girls whose babies you kill! And then I had some bullshit breakdown because she dumped my ass which is fucking expected!” Shane yelled, standing abruptly and taking a breath, closing his eyes, “And when I had a breakdown this job was supposed to be easy on me because we thought I could solve it in a day but how am I supposed to when nothing makes sense?! Wild dogs didn’t go after Ned Fulmer, or your best friend, Ryan! Someone in this town did and it isn’t human!” 

Ryan swallowed and Shane opened his eyes. “You think that?” the younger man whispered, that it was something inhuman? A monster?” 

“It’s like the fucking thing that lurks under our beds when we’re five and we tell our parents that it’s all okay when it’s not--” Shane began, “Now our parents are the scared ones and I want to find a fucking lead for this bullshit!” One of Shane’s palms slammed onto Ryan’s desk and the snow globe Brent had given him ages ago trembled from the force. 

“Okay,” was all Ryan could reply. 

Because it was the first time someone had believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> durr hurr i dont update for five years im max hgjfgfjgs. yeah hes part one of ? of shanes backstory bc theres a lot he left out that has to do with sara lmao??? whOOPS shane but also shane is getting pissed off and also shane is a very morally grey guy in terms of sara and thought that since the baby would turn out like him he shouldnt fuck with it

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first chapter, it's short, and if y'all want more, tell me and i'll make more. this fic is being written due to popularity to my beta-readers, so it'll be written if people on here like it.


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